Fallen
by firefly171
Summary: When it comes to the people she loves Imryll is prepared to give up everything for them to be happy.--Warning! spoilers for main game!--Fem!Surana/Alistair, fem!Surana/Zevran, Jowan, Ser Otto, Liliana.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The secret door was easy enough to find, even hidden as it was underneath a large barrel of ale. Bann Teagan's ring worked just as he said it would and the four of us slowly made our way down the stairs.

I wrinkled my nose at the pungent smell of mildew and dead carcasses of who knows what sort of vermin who made their homes down in the dark dungeons of Redcliff Castle. I strained to see through the darkness, passed Alistair's shoulder, as sweat poured into my eyes and down my arms underneath the heavy silverite armor I wore.

I couldn't help but think of how unnatural it was to feel such weight on my body and the feel of the sword and shield in my hands wasn't much better. I nearly laughed at the thought of feeling so much more vulnerable in that armor than I ever had in my circle robes.

The stairs opened up to a small room filled with only a few crumbling boxes and with one lone door on the opposite wall. Behind me I sensed Liliana and Zevran move to either side of us, both pulling bows from their backs and each knocking an arrow. I watched Alistair's body tense under his own armor and felt the hairs on my arms and neck rise as I surrounded myself with my new Arcane battle spell, instantly making the armor seem lighter than air.

None of us spoke, our group instinct taking over as we quickly crossed the room. Without a moments hesitation Alistair let out a loud bellow as he kicked the the door open.

The next room was long and lined with tiny jail cells on either side. Crowded around the very last one was a group of three undead soldiers. The cries of the poor soul they tormented reached my ears just as Alistair let out another battle cry to draw their attention and charged forward. Summoning a spell to my lips I lashed out with my magic, freezing the closest one as Alistair brought his sword down on it in a crushing blow that left it in pieces on the floor.

Tightening the grip on my sword and shield I moved into my own charge just as two arrows flew past me and embedded themselves each in the remaining zombies. Both seemingly unfazed though, only descended upon Alistair's assault. Seconds later I was upon them, bringing my sword down in what still felt like my first battle stroke since I had found that vial within the Brecilian forest.

It didn't take very long for us to win the battle and when we were done I felt the adrenaline pulse through my body like I had never felt it before. I eyed the corpses warily, feeling unnerved – at least when darkspawn finally fell they stayed that way. I still half expected the disembodied limbs to bounce up and continue fighting.

Then I heard the one voice I thought I would never hear again.

"Hello! Is there anyone out there?" Jowan's voice sounded panicked.

Alistair had his helmet already pulled off and stood in front of the mage's cell. "No worries. We're here to help."

"Oh look at how nicely he treats the prisoners," Zevran laughed and leaned against the wall. "He shall be a king like no other!"

"Would you just shut up about that already," Alistair said irritably.

"Oh and here I was trying to give you a compliment," Zevran shrugged.

"Why are you down here?" Liliana asked, interrupting their banter.

"Well my beautiful bard, it would appear that he is a prisoner," Zevran quipped, "As I'm sure you heard me allude to only moments ago."

"Yes, I think we can all see that," Alistair said.

"Or he could just enjoy locking himself in cages." The former Crow offered, smirk still gracing his lips.

"He's the mage the Arlessa told us about," I said as I took my own helmet off and stepped in front of the jail cell.

The rest of the color drained from Jowan's face as he saw me and his lips parted in a barely audible, "You!"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I remember not feeling very well that day. I can't remember the details nor do I think that I could really describe it then but I think my head felt funny – which would make sense I suppose. I told this to my mother and, well I don't remember her reaction very well either but I do know that she ended up leaving me alone as she left for the palace that morning like she usually did.

I spent most of the day in my bed, taking advantage of the opportunity like any other six year old child would, until late in the afternoon when I was forced out of bed by hunger and an intense need to relieve myself.

I took the kettle and was glad that it still had water in it from the morning. I broke the coals in the hearth and threw some more wood on them. Some may find it odd that such a small child would be able to do these things without the help of her mother, but I would have to answer your questions with the usual life was hard within the Alienage – some lives were just harder than others.

It had been raining most of the last few days I remember, so the wood was damp and not very quick to take to the fire. I got on my hands and knees and stuck my face close to the hot coals and started to blow on them, trying to get them to spark – which they did, quite more then I was expecting. Letting out a small yelp of surprise I jumped out of the hearth as the small fire started to grow. I fed it a bit more wood and put the kettle on it as I turned to find the herbs I knew my mother kept around for when she didn't feel well.

I felt strange then. Stranger than I already had anyway. My lips felt tingly, the air suddenly felt warmer and my stomach felt like it had butterflies fluttering inside it. I sat down on the floor next to the fire and pulled out my father's flute. I pulled the pieces out of the small leather pouch I always kept them in and slid them together. I brought the instrument up to my lips and played one long, sad note.

I missed my father then. I missed how we would sit by the fire, much like I was at that moment, and he would play his flute while I would sing. I missed singing as well. My mother didn't like things that reminded her of my father and so she didn't like it when I sang.

I lowered the flute onto my lap and hummed a small lullaby that he had taught me. It was only the times that I was alone that I was able to do so, usually while my mother was working at the palace.

I closed my eyes and continued singing, my humming turning into actual words. My body started to feel cold then, so cold that I started shaking. I thought maybe the fire had died out so I stopped singing and opened my eyes.

I was shocked to see that the fire had indeed flickered out but not due to damp wood. No, what I saw was a layer of ice, several inches thick, encasing the hearth and kettle. I stood up quickly and backed away, frightened by what I knew could only be magic. I clutched my father's flute close to me as I looked around, trying to think of a way to make the ice go away.

I heard the door behind me open instead and when I turned I saw my mother standing in the entryway, a look of horror contorting her tired face.

I of course said what any child says when they think that they're in trouble. "Mama, I promise I didn't do it!"

I remember my mother's lips moving though I can no longer recall the words that she spoke. I cried and threw myself at her feet, begging her forgiveness for I knew not what. I didn't want her to be angry with me because I knew it usually came with a beating.

I do remember the laughter. The low laughter you'd hear from a mad woman, like the one who would sit by the gate everyday. That's what my mother sounded like. I stopped crying and looked up at her.

"You're not angry with me mama?" I asked, for as a child I hadn't yet realized the obvious condition my mother's mind was in.

She stopped laughing and she kneeled down in front of me, her face looked almost calm, happy. I felt relief well up inside me as she softly stroked my face.

Again she said something – hindsight tells me it was something like, "It all makes sense now," or maybe, "It'll all be okay now." Truthfully though, I don't remember so it could have been anything.

Before I knew it, her hands were around my neck and crushing my windpipe with a strength I never knew her to have. She shoved me to the ground and started to yell at me words I couldn't understand, whether they were just babble or my mind beginning to cloud I'm not sure but the only word I do remember her saying was "Monster."

My mother, whom I had only the greatest love for, was on top of me, choking the life out of me and calling me a monster. Fire hot tears streamed down my face as my tiny body struggled against her assault, so tight was her grip that I could not even find the air to scream for help.

It turned out that I had no need for any real worry though as a man, another elf, entered my blurred line of sight suddenly and pulled my mother off of me. He threw her to the ground near the door were another elven man grabbed and held her from getting back up to come after me again.

I wasn't sure where they had come from though I know now that my mother had probably left the door open in her haste to try and kill me.

The first one helped me sit up and all I could do was stare at my mother as she thrashed against the others hold on her, wailing how I had done her wrong, it was all my fault, I was a witch – I was a monster.

In all her flailing she managed to elbow the man holding her in the jaw, causing him to loosen his hold on her. Without missing a beat she lunged for me again, screaming angrily when the first intervened and stopped her. I pushed myself away until I felt the ice from the fireplace upon my hand and never took my eyes off her.

"I'm sorry mama," I cried. "I didn't mean to. I promise I'll be good from now on."

"Tabris," the one holding her said, "grab her legs would you." Before he could though my mother, without warning, stopped struggling, gasped for breath and with a look of absolute horror clawed at her chest.

The men let her go and she fell to the ground, still staring at me with wide terrified eyes as the life quickly drained from her. Seconds after my mother had hit the floor she was already dead. The two men looked at me but I could not tear my gaze from her. I remember there was a crowd of people standing at my door and one of them, maybe a few more, screamed. The word abomination was thrown out into the air too though, at that time, I had no idea what that could have been.

A few of the city guards pushed their way through the crowed and demanded an explanation. I don't know what was told, though now I could venture a pretty good guess. I heard the sound of a sword being pulled from it's sheath and finally looked away from my mother to see one of the guards standing over me. To give the nameless man credit, I do remember he did not look like he wanted to do what he had just decided needed to be done.

I panicked, maybe screamed, but mostly cried and tried to move away. Someone came up behind me to hold me still and I cried harder. I still couldn't understand what was going on, what just happened or what I had done wrong.

I was a child yes, but I wasn't so naive in the ways that my world worked that I didn't know what it was he meant to do to me. To often I had already seen guards cut down an elf at just the word from a bored noble.

"What in the Maker's name is going on in here?" I heard a man's voice yell out from the direction of the door.

The guard moved to the side and I could see the largest human I had ever seen in my life standing there, wearing the massive armor that only the Chantry's Templars wore. Oh yes I knew who the Templars were even then, not really what they did but I had seen several pass through the Alienage before.

"This girl here is a mage," the guard said gesturing to me and I felt my body freeze with terror at the word.

The Templar looked at me, though not unkindly. I looked away from him, too scared to look him in the eye but still unable to run away, though I did feel the grip on my arms loosen a little bit.

"And the woman?" I heard him ask. "What happened to her?"

One of the elves spoke up, though I don't think it was either one of my rescuers, "The girl--" he started but the Templar cut him off.

"I'm not asking about the girl now," he said harshly. "I'm asking what happened to the _woman_."

"Beg your pardon ser," the guard said, "but it's our understanding that it was the girl what done it."

"I didn't," I cried, nearing hysterics again. "I promise I didn't do it. I ruined the fire I did and she got mad at me and...." I looked around for the ones that had stopped her. "There were some men. One of them did it," I accused. "One of them hurt her!"

He walked across the room and bent down in front of me. His face held a sad smile upon it as he spoke. "Be calm child. I don't believe you would do any harm to your mother."

"But ser--" the guard tried.

"It's a rare thing for even the most advanced mages to kill using magic and to leave not a trace of it on the body," the Templar said standing up. "This girl froze the fireplace but this woman died of natural causes. The claws of Death have a cruel sense of humor and timing, nothing more."

The guard managed to look both relieved and horrified at the same time. "So we..._don't_ have to kill the child then?"

"No," the Templar answered and turned to me, holding out his hand. "Come child," he said. "Lets take you away from this dreadful place."

The hands holding me were gone and I did not hesitate before I was running into the arms of my savior.

His name was Ser Otto, and he was the most beautiful man I have ever met – even more beautiful then another particular Templar I've had the privilege to admire. He was tall, even by human standards, kept his head shaved, his beard trimmed and always made sure he looked at me with a smile – even if it was more often then not a sad one.

After my mother's death I was with him only for maybe a week or so but those days are days I remember fondly, though I would never have thought so at first. He brought me to a local inn in the city marketplace and paid one of the elderly maids there to clean and dress me in "anything better than the rags hanging off of her now." Then he left me – the only time he did so in our short stay together – to send a letter ahead of us, informing the circle of our coming.

The woman was not at all pleased to be near me and almost refused once she heard that she would be alone with me for more than a minute. Regardless of that, she was not terribly unkind, even pitying me enough to spoil me with a honey cake from the kitchen after my hungry stomach had made itself known.

That first night was spent in silence as he let me mourn the loss of my mother – and even as cruel as she had been to me, I did indeed mourn her – and before the first morning light he roused me from my troubled sleep and we set off at daybreak. He arranged for us to travel with a pair of merchants who were traveling to Redcliff and so I spent most of the journey sitting on the back of their cart with my feel dangling over the ground and with Ser Otto following close behind.

The merchants did their best to pretend that I wasn't there but Ser Otto never stopped talking to me. Even the first day or so on the road when I was still very quiet he was quite the opposite. He told me stories of his adventures – or at least stories of his adventures that he thought a young child like myself would enjoy hearing – and some that he had heard from a bard once. It was the last that had broken my silence as I tentatively asked if they had traveled with any elves.

"Sure they traveled with several elves though I don't think any of them were performers," he had answered and I must admit I felt rather disappointed.

"And how about you?" he asked, smiling his sad smile at me, "You hold onto that flute mighty tight. You have any songs or stories you'd like to share with us?"

I shook my head.

"Come now," he said gently, "I'm sure you can play beautiful music."

"I can't really play," I said. "I just make noise with it is all."

"Is that what your mother told you?" he asked and his tone took on a slightly angry tone – as it would for the rest of our trip and any other time I saw him whenever my mother was brought up.

"My papa never taught me how to play it," I said.

"Ah I see." his voice once again took on it's usual gentle tone. "So it was a gift from your father."

I nodded and tried my hardest not to cry.

"And what became of him?" Ser Otto asked.

I did cry then. "He left a long time ago. He promised that he was going to be back very soon but...."

Ser Otto didn't say anything then. He just let me cry as the feeling of abandonment swept over me – not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

That night was the first night Ser Otto allowed me to fall asleep in his arms. Never in my life could I remember feeling safer than I did that night.

"How did you become so smart?" Ser Otto asked me one day, not long before we had reached the tower.

We had stopped for our midday meal and, like we had been doing since we had started, the merchants and we would eat separate from each other.

"I don't know," I confessed. I had never really ever thought of myself as being more intelligent than any other child my age though now I will admit I had often grew annoyed with the other children of the Alienage when they did not catch onto one of my clever jokes or some such nonsense.

"But you already know so much about the world," he said. "Just the other day you pointed out those flowers that I had never even heard of."

I blushed at the memory. He was speaking of the Lady's Slippers I had seen, a very rare flower indeed. The only reason I had known what they were was because my father had one time found one and brought it home to me.

I of course told this to Ser Otto.

"Your father taught you may things?" he asked.

"He taught me stories," I said, "and a little bit about plants. I know which ones grew around the Aleinage pretty well. And...." I stopped, feeling to embarrassed.

"And?" he encouraged.

"Well, he also taught me how to sing," I said shyly.

He let out a laugh and clapped his hands together. "You've been holding out on me after all!" he said. "Go on then. Sing us a song."

"I'm not very good," I squeaked.

"Nonsense," he stated flatly. "A beautiful girl like you could never have an ugly voice. Now sing for me."

I'm not sure what did it, whether it was his calling me _beautiful_ or just asking me to sing for _him_, but I suddenly found myself feeling rather peculiar. My face felt red hot and it almost seemed like I was floating up into the clouds.

I was singing almost before I even realized that I was doing so, picking a song I knew not where I had ever heard it from. A song about a girl who's father had died and left her with her evil stepmother and stepsisters. The girl who befriended field mice and cats who then helped her escape and find true love – a story I know very well now but have no idea how a child of that age could know of such things.

When I had finished Ser Otto was absolutely beaming at me and even the merchant and his assistant, who I then learned was actually his son, had ventured over to have a listen. Ser Otto never took his eyes off me, his smile never wavered.

"Perfect," he said and I felt what could only have been the warmth of the Maker himself shine upon me. "Just perfect," he repeated and I could do nothing but agree.

My first feelings towards the tower were, surprisingly enough, not fear. Instead I was fascinated. I had never seen anything so large and grand before. In my young mind I was certain that not even the palace in Denerim could equal it. Even with Ser Otto's warnings that life would not be easy within the tower my excitement did not waver. That is, not until I met Knight-Commander Greagoir.

He was waiting for us as the ferry man, Kester, guided the boat up along side the dock. I had thought Ser Otto a large man but the Knight-Commander somehow managed to make Ser Otto seem the size of a dwarf, and he did not look at all friendly.

Ser Otto picked me up out of the boat and set me down on the dock next to him where I immediately moved behind him to hide myself from the intimidating man who would not stop glaring at me.

"Greetings Knight-Commander," Ser Otto said as he crossed his hands over his chest and bowed. I mimicked him in hopes of making the Knight-Commander like me and stop looking at me like that. His expression didn't change of course but one of the other Templars with him did chuckle a little.

"So this is the child you wrote of in your report?" Greagoir said, still looking at me.

"Yes," Ser Otto said, "she's very intelligent. I'm certain she'll make an excellent and well disciplined Mage." I couldn't help but feel myself well up with pride – never had anyone in my recent memory gifted me with such a compliment before.

"I'm always happy to hear news of such promising apprentices," another voice said from behind the Knight-Commander.

"Ah First Enchanter," Greagoir said turning as an old man, dressed in traditional mage's robes, appeared from the entrance of the tower.

"First Enchanter Irving," Ser Otto said. "I'd like to present to you Imryll Surana, from the Denerim Alienage."

The First Enchanter smiled warmly at me and I felt a small part of my fear fade as I smiled timidly back at him.

"It most certainly a pleasure to meet you Imryll," the First Enchanter said. I once again hid behind Ser Otto, feeling much to shy to actually speak to anyone.

"You'll forgive her of course if she's feeling a bit overwhelmed," Ser Otto said, smiling though while he did.

"Of course," Irving said. "I certainly can't blame her. She's rather young is she not?"

"Six years." Ser Otto sounded sad when he said it.

"Much younger than most of the other apprentices I'm afraid," Irving said. "Though I'm sure she'll still have little trouble fitting in. Now do we plan on making this child stand out in the cold all night or do we plan on moving this meeting inside."

"You're old bones getting the better of you?" Greagoir said and I was surprised to see him crack a small smile.

"You're not that far behind me," Irving laughed, "you just remember that."

We moved inside the tower then. I remember thinking how everything inside seemed so big. I will forever remember the beauty of the tower – for it was beautiful, no one could ever deny that.

We ascended a set of stairs and at the end of a winding hall we reached what I now know was the First Enchanter's study. I was instructed to sit in a high backed, uncomfortable wooden chair which I did obediently. The entire time they had been discussing me, both the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter asking Ser Otto all kinds of questions about me and the situation with my mother.

Not really wanting to be a part of that conversation I spent most of that time instead staring at everything in awe. It wasn't until I heard my attention called for that I turned to the adults in the room with me. My first observation was that Ser Otto looked both sad and concerned. This made me feel a little nervous.

"Now Imryll," Irving said. "One of the first things that a new apprentice needs to do when they come to live in the tower is give us a little bit of their blood."

I felt my face go cold as the color most surly must have drained out.

"Why?" I asked and looked to Ser Otto.

"It's because a lot of mages are dangerous," Ser Otto said to me soothingly. "The blood ensures that if they are ever to do anything bad we would be able to find them."

"But I wont do anything bad," I said. "Why do I have to do it?"

"Because that's the way things work," Greagoir said sternly.

"There's no reason to be so harsh with her, Greagoir," Irving said.

"I see no sense in coddling her either," the Knight-Commander said.

"It's only a little blood," Ser Otto said coming and kneeling in front of me. "If you want I can do it myself if that makes you more comfortable."

I had, obviously, rather not to have done it at all, but if it had to be done I thought that I would much prefer it be him. I nodded my head to give my consent.

"It's not going to hurt is it?" I asked as the First Enchanter handed him a small knife and tiny glass vial.

"Not to much," he said and began to roll up the sleeve of my dress. "You have nothing to worry about. The First Enchanter's here to heal you right up after we're done."

The incision he made was small and in fact nearly painless compared to some of the scrapes and bruises I had suffered before and I immediately felt silly for being so frightened. Once the vial was full he covered the cut with a cloth and handed my blood over to Greagoir.

"That enough?" he asked the Knight-Commander.

"It should suffice," Greagoir said and nodded to Irving who then walked over to me and took the cloth from Ser Otto.

He removed the compress and placed a hand over the cut and muttered a spell. It felt weird but as soon as my skin had knitt itself back together right before my eyes I started to bombard him with questions. Questions like "How did you do that?" "Can you teach me?" and "How long before I can start learning to do magic like that?"

He laughed at me and placed a hand on top of my head. "All in good time child," he answered me and I found myself quite anxious to get started.

At that time a young woman entered the room.

"You wanted to see me First Enchanter?" she asked.

"Ah yes," he said waving her in. "Would you be so kind as to take young Imryll here and get her cleaned up and show her around the tower a little bit."

She looked at me like she was looking at a locust. She was obviously not happy about such an assignment. Never-the-less she bowed and told the First Enchanter she would.

She quickly had me back on the first level and dumped into a tub of luke warm water. After I was bathed she dressed me in my very first set of robes, the simple blue that all apprentice's wore. She allowed me to admire myself in a large full length mirror for a few moments.

It wasn't that I was feeling very vain about my appearance it was just that after everything that had happened with my mother, I was rather looking forward to becoming a mage. I was finally in the tower that was going to be my new home and wearing the clothes that all mages wore. When I looked at myself in the mirror that day it was like I was really looking at a stranger. The girl looking back wasn't the same Imryll who only a few weeks ago was clutching her mother's skirts begging for forgiveness for something as small as leaving the window open and letting a fly in.

"Are you ready to see the rest of the tower?" the young woman asked.

I turned from the mirror to look at her. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I nodded and followed her through the door to the apprentice's quarters.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been almost a full week after I had arrived at the tower before I would finally meet him. My first day did not go at all how I had expected it to. Like Irving had said I was indeed the youngest of the apprentices. I had been happy enough when I found that I wasn't the only elf to live in the tower, but most of the others were already well into their lessons and so didn't really want to be bothered with me.

This hurt a lot but it wasn't until I had found that the story of my mother had somehow preceded my arrival that I truly felt isolated from everyone. Most smiled when I was introduced to them but as I was lead away I could hear the whispered "She's the one who killed her mother isn't she?" and "What did they let her into the circle for? Isn't she supposed to be an abomination?"

By the time I reached Ser Otto again my tears of joy were transformed to tears of misery and I threw myself into his arms crying that nobody liked me.

"They just don't know you yet," he reassured me. "Give it a little time and I'm sure they'll all love you as much as I do."

"Nobody wants to know me," I cried.

"Nonsense," he smiled. "Sing them a song and I'm sure everyone will want to be your friend."

"Ser Otto," Greagoir said pulling his attention away from me. "May I remind you that time is of the essence."

"Yes of course Commander," Ser Otto said. "I'm sorry Imryll but I have to leave you now."

"Why?" I asked, truly distressed then.

"I have something I need to do," he said. "But I promise that I will be back to see you."

Nothing could describe how miserable I felt right then. I wanted to remind him that that's what my father had told me before he had left but before I could say anything more Greagoir told Ser Otto he needed to go.

One week later things had yet to improve for me.

I was in the Library, hiding in a corner that not many people seemed to pass by very often, practicing my letters. During my first lessons I was told that I would have to learn to read and write before I could begin to learn any magic. This news had only succeeded in deepening my misery. I didn't understand the importance of it and so took no joy in writing the first six letters I had learned over and over again on the small chalkboard my tutor had given me.

As I sat there, alone, I started to hum. I'm not sure what it was but singing had always been a way for me to make myself feel better and even helped me concentrate.

I hadn't realized how loud I might have been so I was surprised when I heard another voice say, "What song is that?"

Startled I stopped humming and looked up. At the end of the bookcase I was sitting next to stood a young boy not much older than me, wearing the same blue robes, short black hair, a pleasant smile and holding a book. I was even more surprised when I didn't recognize him though that was far from unusual since I was meeting new people every day – even after one week.

He was staring at me and I realized I hadn't answered him yet.

"I was just humming," I said. "I don't think it was any real song."

"Oh," he said, looking thoughtful for a second. "Well it was still very pretty."

"Thank you," I said, remembering Ser Otto's parting words just then.

"So what's your name?" he asked. "I'm Jowan by the way."

Jowan and I sat there for a long while talking. He asked me all sorts of questions, especially about what had happened with my mother. He didn't seem very troubled by the story, stating, "Well if the Templar was worried about you becoming an abomination then he would have killed you. Everyone else is just being stupid."

"What's an abomination?" I asked. My tutor only answered me with the usual "You'll learn that in time" answer when I had asked her and so I had yet to find out what every one even thought I was.

"An abomination is a mage who gets possessed by a demon," he said. "That's why the Templars bring us here. They keep all us mages locked up here so that they can watch us. Make sure none of us turn into abominations."

"Oh," I said thinking of Ser Otto. I wondered if that had really been the only reason he had brought me there. I had allowed myself to believe that he had done it so that I would have a better home than in the Alienage.

"So are you from an Alienage?" Jowan asked, almost as though he was reading my mind.

I nodded.

"So what was it like?" he asked.

I hesitated, not really wanting to talk about it.

"Where are you from?" I asked him instead. His smile faded.

"A village up north," he said. "I don't really remember." I could tell that I had upset him.

"I'm from the Alienage in Denerim," I said. "Me and my mama lived there."

"What about your father?" Jowan asked. "Didn't he live there with you?"

"No he left a long time ago," I said sadly.

My father loved to tell stories and play music. He had plenty of occasion to within the Ailenage, what with all the holidays and weddings that took place. Everyone loved to hear him play but what my father had always wanted, what he had always dreamed about, was traveling the world and performing in far off countries like Antiva and the Anderfels. It was a little over a year before my mother's death that he was hired by a band of traveling minstrels and left with them. Before he did though he gave me his flute and promised that he would be back very soon. I of course had never seen him again.

Jowan listened to my story and offered me sympathy when I had finished. He didn't offer to tell me his story though which I'll admit did annoy me.

"Do you remember any of the stories he used to tell?" he asked next.

I then went on to tell him the story about the girl who wore a red hood and who's grandmother had gotten eaten by a wolf who then went on to blow down the houses of three baby pigs. He again listened to me, never interrupting. That's when he pulled out the book he had been looking at before he had come over to talk to me.

"This is a book about elves," he said opening it up to a page with a picture of a beautiful city. "This was their city called the Dales. The Chantry didn't like them though and made them leave. That's why all the elves live in the Alienages now."

"Why didn't the Chantry like them?" I asked.

"Because they didn't believe in the Maker I think," he said and shrugged it away. "The elves were supposed to know a lot of magic back then too."

"Really?" I asked, starting to feel intrigued.

"Yeah," he nodded excitedly. "That's probably another reason the Chantry didn't like them either. The Chantry really doesn't like magic at all."

"Why not?" I asked him.

"Because mages did something bad a really long time ago and made the Maker mad," Jowan said.

"What did they do?"

"I don't know," he said. "But whatever it was must have been pretty bad for all of us to still be getting punished for it."

"Punished?" I asked, confused. He looked at me strangely.

"You do know that we aren't allowed to leave right?"

I hadn't known that. Strangely I did not cry or even feel the least bit distressed by this news. Oh, I would of course come to resent it just as every mage does but at that time my already overwhelmed mind just didn't have the capacity to feel hatred for my situation.

"It's still better than living in the Alienage," I said and that was one thing that never changed in my mind.

The nights within the tower were probably the worst. All apprentices slept on the first level of the tower and were separated more or less by age than anything else, though it was mostly you were just put wherever they found room for you. I think it was just that I was unused to sleeping in a bed by myself. Even though she had been cruel to me, my mother and I had always shared a bed together and even before my father left I would sleep in the same bed as the two of them.

During that week of travel with Ser Otto I never really slept without him by my side either though I had no actual recollection of him really sleeping. I missed Ser Otto then and wondered when it was he would keep his promise to come back.

I heard mumbling somewhere on the other side of the room and sat up to see a light flickering from one of the beds.

"Jowan for the love of the Maker blow that candle out," I heard someone complain and Jowan's hasty apology that followed though the candle flame stayed strong none-the-less.

Silently I climbed out of bed and made my way across the room to where I now knew Jowan's bed to be. When I approached I saw that he was sitting up in bed trying his hardest to balance both a candle and it's holder on one knee and a book on the other.

"What are you reading?" I asked, startling him.

"Oh Imryll," he exclaimed as he realized it was only me and handed me the candle which I took after I had climbed onto the bed with him. He held the book between us so that I could look at it with him.

"This one's about an Orlesian girl who was raised by the Dalish," he said.

"The Dalish?" I asked as I looked at the picture of a beautiful human woman dressed all in leathers and animal skins, armed with a magnificent longbow.

"They're the elves that don't live in the Alienage," Jowan said. "They move around a lot so no one really know how to find them. Some of the older apprentices say they don't even exist."

He looked at me questioningly but I could only shake my head.

"I've never even heard of them before," I said.

"Really?" he asked. "You mean your father never even talked about them?"

"Not to me," I said looking at the picture again and then turning the page. I was discouraged when all I saw in the next page was words. I scowled at it.

"You can't read yet?" he asked and I shook my head.

"Can you?" I asked and his chest swelled with pride.

"Of course I can," he said and turned a few pages back to the beginning of the story. "Well I can't really read all the words but I asked one of the older mages to read it to me before so I know what it says." He cleared his throat and started reciting the story to me.

It was a story that would forever be one of my favorites – even long before a certain Orlesian bard would once again recite it to me in the dark of night as we both fought off sleep, on the look out for Darkspawn and Fereldan soldiers.

I'm of course speaking of the the story about Aveline the Brave. That night, Jowan didn't tell it quite right and had to back track several times but I couldn't help but sympathize with Aveline and her sad story. Abandoned by her family, taken in by the elves and sent to fight and prove to the world that she wasn't as useless as they had all thought she was. As I grew older I thought I knew how she must have felt and furverently hoped that my own story would at the very least have a happier ending than her's did.

After Jowan had finished reading he closed the book and failed to stifle a yawn.

"I guess we should get to sleep," he said sleepily, "Before the enchanters come to wake us and find us never having slept at all."

"Oh," I said not relishing the thought of climbing back into my bed alone. "I guess you're right."

"If you want I can help you with your letters tomorrow," he said as he started climbing under his blankets.

"I'd like that," I said, looking forward to talking to him again.

"Well good night then," he said as he blew the candle out and took it from me. He placed it on the floor next to his bed and lay down, pulling the covers over his head.

I slowly began to make my way back over to my own bed but stopped before I had even made it half way. With out even the small amount of light that his candle had given off before, the room was dark – really dark. From where I stood I couldn't even make out my bed.

It was on hands and knees that I arrived back at Jowan's bed, nearly in tears. I peeked over the side of his bed and heard him already snoring away.

"Jowan," I whispered.

No answer.

"Jowan!" I tried a little louder. He groaned and opened his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"It's too dark to see," I said pitifully. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

He was already half asleep again but he nodded anyway and pushed himself aside a bit to give me some room. I crawled under the covers and pushed myself as close as I could to him.

"Thank you," I said but he was already out again and didn't answer me. Cuddling up to him I slept soundly that night.

It didn't take me long to figure out that Jowan didn't really like the Templars. I couldn't blame him of course as he was certainly not alone in his dislike of them – nearly all the mages in the tower hated the Templars. I was no exception. I had thought at one point that all Templars were like Ser Otto but I was quickly educated with the knowledge that if I had been unfortunate enough to be found by any other Templar, I most certainly would not have made it out of my little house alive.

I heard a lot of stories about how apprentices were brought to the circle and I began to feel very thankful that I had been very lucky. I had at one time asked Jowan how he had been brought to the circle but he didn't want to talk about it.

Instead the two of us talked about other things. We would find story books and then ask one of the kinder enchanters to read them to us, or in Jowan's case help him read the words he couldn't so he could read to me. Jowan loved listening to me tell the stories that my father had taught me, as few as I could remember anyway, and when I had told them all he never minded hearing any of them again. He was especially interested in hearing stories about elves.

Another thing he liked doing was listening to me sing. It took him a while to convince me to sing in front of him again, so embarrassed I was at being overheard when I hadn't meant to, but after he had I found it rather hard to find reasons not to anymore. Often I would try to convince him to sing with me to which he refused – and I never really asked him again once I had finally succeeded. Instead I gifted him with what was my most precious possession – my father's flute.

He of course tried to refuse it.

"Nonsense," I had said. "If you have it then you can play while I sing."

"But I don't know how," he had argued.

"Then learn," I argued back.

"Who here can teach me how to play a flute?"

"Playing it is the easy part," I smiled. "I can teach you that. It's making the notes sound good together that's the difficult part."

"How am I supposed to make the music I play sound as pretty as your singing?"

"You have ears don't you?" I laughed.

Time, when I was with Jowan, flew right by and before I knew it, days had turned into weeks and weeks into months until finally one of the senior mages informed me that it had been an entire year since I had come to the tower. I was genuinely surprised to hear it.

Within that first year I had learned to write, after a fashion anyway, and even read a little. I had learned my basic history and even some not so basic history though that was mostly due to my and Jowan's sweep of the library for anything new and interesting. I could answer questions about Andraste and the Tevinter Imperium mages, the Fade and even recite a stanza or two from the Chant of Light – and I could freeze a glass of water.

It was only a little bit of magic but the first day I had done it not even the wary looks from the Templars could sour my mood. Most had insisted that it was a fluke but I proved them wrong the very next day when I did it again. The First Enchanter, who had been present the second time to see it, was very impressed. Jowan however, was less than enthused.

He had been there a year longer than I had and couldn't cast even a simple spell like the one I had performed. I did my best to help him but the longer it took it only made him more discouraged. It mattered not that all of the senior mages and enchanters told him that it was very unusual for anyone as young as us to show any real control over our powers, that I was somehow special.

I didn't like them saying that – that I was special. It only made him sad when they told him, or praised me in front of him. I tried to cheer him up by telling him that he was much better at reading and writing than I was but it did little to improve his mood. Soon, I started to grow very annoyed with him.

That's when Ser Otto had finally returned.

Jowan and I were returning to our quarters when I saw him speaking to another Templar at the end of the hall. I hesitated only until he turned and upon seeing me said, "Surely that beautiful young lady can't be the tattered little girl I left here only a year ago."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I left Jowan's side and ran into his waiting embrace.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Harrowing. It had been several years after my arrival at the tower before I had even heard mention of it. It is the test that all apprentices must go through before they can finally be called mages – and it is a test shrouded in secrecy.

No one knows what to expect during the Harrowing until they are called for it. Afterward, they are sworn to never speak of it with any apprentice who has not undergone it themselves. Jowan and I lost many we called friends to it.

Nothing is said of those who do not pass it – they simply disappear in the dead of night without warning.

I am still not sure how it is decided when an apprentice will go through their Harrowing, although no one seemed surprised when rumors started to circulate that I would be called soon during my seventeenth year – younger than most apprentices, though nothing to think very highly of. When the whisperings of it finally reached my ears I was gripped by the sharpest, coldest terror I had ever felt in my life – for fearing the sword held to your neck is much different than fearing that which you do not know.

I could not at first find Jowan, which distressed me greatly. He had been disappearing more and more frequently over the past several months, claiming he had "met someone." It hadn't bothered me nearly as much as I would have thought, although that might have mostly been due to my own growing attraction to one of the newer Templars that had arrived near the same time. What _had_ bothered me though, was that such rumors were spreading around and he was not there to console me as he must have known I would need him to.

When I could not immediately find Jowan I instead found myself thinking of Ser Otto, whom I had not even heard from in nearly two years. I prayed to the Maker for his safety everyday and wished with all my heart that he would come to see me again. In the last letter he had sent to me, he had written that he would be in pursuit of a dangerous Malificar and so it would be a while before he'd be able to contact me again.

I hadn't thought though that I'd still be waiting – worrying – two years later. Jowan had made it a point to tell me constantly that he was more than likely dead – a constant source of argument between the two of us.

After my failed search for Jowan, I instead decided to visit the Chantry. It was on the second level of the tower, passed the Library. Not very many of the mages graced it with their presence, most feeling that they had more than enough reason to resent the Chantry and, therefore, the Maker himself. I myself might have thought that once if it was not for Ser Otto.

He had told me that he was convinced that the Maker had guided him to me. He would never explain to me why he believed so, but I certainly was never going to argue with him. If he believed that the Maker sent him to me, then that's what I believed as well.

As I entered the Chantry I was greeted by Lily, one of the newer initiates. She was kind and always greeted me with a smile. I found it hard not to like her.

She smiled slyly at me this day though as she made a gesture over to one of the back corners. I needed not ask her what she was about though to know that Cullen must have been there for his daily prayers. I casually made my way to the corner she had indicated and peeked around the wall to see him – in his full Templar armor – on bended need reciting the Chant of Light at the foot of the Prophet Andraste.

I had always loved that statue though I could never quite tell why. It was probably the oldest of the statues and so looked the most worn – but then maybe that was why I loved it so much. It was the one I had always chosen for my own prayers and to see Cullen there before her left me feeling – well I'm not sure how I was feeling at that moment to tell you the truth.

I stood there and quietly waited for him to finish, closing my eyes and simply reveling in the sound of his voice. I let Andraste's words wash over me and calm the fears the rumors had given birth to. It was enough for me to just stand there and listen to him, _would_ have been enough for me, probably, for the rest of my life. Never would I have allowed myself to entertain such fantasies of any sort of relationship growing between the two of us – for he was a Templar after all, and I a mage.

He finished – far too soon I thought wistfully – and stood. When he turned and saw me he stopped short. I opened my eyes and he was standing there, staring at me but quickly moved his gaze towards the floor instead.

"H-hello," he said. "Sorry to have taken so long."

"I haven't been waiting long Cullen," I told him, smiling at his embarrassment. "And you've more right to be here than I."

"T-that's not true," he said quickly. "You've all the right in Thedas to be here."

His face was such a deep shade of red as he stood there, looking at the floor and stuttering like that, that the laugh which escaped my lips I could not have stopped even if I had tried. I covered my mouth and was certain my own face soon matched his in regards to color as he looked up at me with an expression I would probably never be able to put a name to.

"Well I have d-duties I must return to," he said and then bowed. I felt my face flush even more as the gesture was still so uncommon, and found him, not for the first time, reminding me of Ser Otto.

"May the Maker watch over you," he finished as he straightened.

"And you as well," I said, lowering myself into a bow so that he could not see my face and didn't rise until I felt him pass.

I rushed through my prayers a little faster than I probably should have, flustered as I was by the encounter. After, I retreated to the Library where I stayed for the remainder of the day, burying myself in my studies in an attempt to fend off feelings best left untouched and the ever present fear of the unknown.

I didn't see Jowan finally until much later when I was just about to turn in for the night.

"Jacob just told me that you were looking for me," he said as he approached. I didn't bother hiding my annoyance with him.

"That was hours ago," I said angrily, "and I looked everywhere too. Where were you?" He had the decency to at least look ashamed – if a little uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry I was with-"

"Your lady love," I said mockingly. It might have been a bit mean but I had spent the day drowning in feelings that I had desperately needed distraction from.

"Imryll," he almost pleaded, "I'm so sorry. I heard what everyone is saying about you possibly being called for your Harrowing soon."

"It's only a rumor," I said, trying to blow it off. For whatever reason I no longer wished to speak of it with him.

"I know," he said. "But once I heard it, I knew that you'd need me to talk to."

"I did," I said sitting on my bed, "but you were nowhere to be found."

"I'm here now," he said, sitting next to me, even bringing his hand up to delicately tuck a strand of my hair behind one of my ears.

It was something he always did, a habit he developed when we were children. He always said I looked prettier when people could see my ears. Being an elf didn't matter so much living in the Circle but most still thought it strange that a human and an elf could be so close and so I grew accustomed to keeping my hair long to better hide them.

I never minded the gesture. It was always something that I found comfort in – one small thing that hadn't changed between us in all the years we'd known each other. I felt the emotions from the day bubble back to the surface of my mind in the form of hot tears sliding down my face.

"What if the rumors are true?" I asked, pulling away from him and wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"And what if they are?" he said. "There have been worse mages who have passed it and you're the best there is."

I smiled at his confidence, not really willing to agree with him. What he said was true, there were many a mage that most of us were surprised made it through their Harrowing – but there were just as many promising apprentices that were never seen again.

"If only they would just tell us what the Harrowing is!" I said, feeling exasperated. "Then maybe I would not feel so apprehensive about it."

The two of us sat there in silence for several minutes. Jowan stared out across the room with a horrible bitter look on his face. I couldn't stop the question before it was pouring out past my lips.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him. He was always the silent type when it came to serious matters and most often would not always say what was on his mind – even to me.

He looked at me strangely before looking away. "I was thinking that you could always become a Tranquil instead."

I felt my heart grow cold at the suggestion. The Right of Tranquility was possibly even more frightening than the Harrowing only because the mages that go through it never came back the same – though it could be said that they _all_ came back. Cold and emotionless, the Tranquils in the tower, like Owain, reminded me more of dolls than actual people.

Jowan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a sort of half hug. I rested my head on his shoulders and allowed him to run his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I even open my big mouth half the time."

"You're the bumbling big brother type," I said, smiling slightly under my curtain of hair. "That's what they do."

He smiled and placed his head on top of mine. "Good to know, I suppose, where I stand in that long line of suitors of yours."

"Oh it's not so long," I protested, sitting up, "and if you really wanted to I guess I could see about moving you up."

"Oh yes, like you could stand moving an idiot like me before that dashing Templar of yours," he joked and I was happy that his tone didn't sound mocking like it normally would.

"Oh you better watch what you say Jowan," I teased. "If you say things like that to loudly your lady friend might get jealous."

"Well if she gets jealous of you then I would just have to except that she's not worth it," he laughed.

"Am I ever going to meet her," I asked and his laughter died down slightly before changing it's tone.

"Someday," he said.

"Then I guess I just have to go on believing that she's just some wonderful goddess you've imagined," I said.

"I'm glad you already agree with me that she's the equivalent of a goddess but she's very real," he said, though he was starting to look uncomfortable again.

I wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. Jowan stood up then.

"You were getting ready to go to sleep," he said. "I should leave you so you can rest."

As he started to walk away though I grabbed the sleeve of his robes. He stopped and looked at me.

"Stay," I asked, my voice breaking with emotion that was threatening to start choking me again. "Please."

My last full night as an apprentice was spent in general contentment. Even now I'm not certain how much sleep Jowan had gotten that night, for every time I awoke he was always there, reassuring me that everything was alright.

The next day was like any other. Jowan did disappear but it was only for an hour or so around midday, and we spent most of that evening entertaining the other apprentices with our music. Thinking back now, I hadn't even noticed how Jowan seemed more detached from everything than he normally would be. He played my father's flute just as beautifully as he always did but I remember now that it lacked the life it always had. I wish I had been more observant – or maybe just a little less self-centered. If I _had_ been, then everything that happened might not have had too.

My last day as an apprentice was spent among friends and was filled with laughter. That night, I would be summoned for my Harrowing – and my first day as a full mage would turn out to be something far different than anything I ever would have imagined.


End file.
